Life As It Could or Should Be
by Case Number 241
Summary: What if the boys were never rescued?i realize this describes practically every fic on this site, but deal with it. i suck at this stuffRated because of bloody suicide and implied slash JackRalphsry i didn't go all the way this was for class


This story speaks for itself! Just read!

Disclaimer: I'd love to say i own these chars but i don't. they were all from William Golding's mind. And i don't own the song either! Everclear created that one!

Roger 

_**Everybody here in this small town**_

_**Looks used and abused today**_

_**Everybody here is looking outside in**_

_**It seems like nothing ever changes**_

As I make my way through the forest surrounding Castle Rock, I reach up and touch my hair. I remember it used to be a short conservative cut. When I used to be conservative. I can remember the feel of the scissors as the barber cut away at snippets of hair on top of my head and near my ears. If I close my eyes, I can sometimes hear the buzz of the razor as it cut the hairs from the nape of my neck. But now, the island is taking even that away from me.

I sigh and rest against a tree. I should be on guard. Even though Jack told him to stay away, knowing him, he probably can't wait to test Jack's tolerance again.

Why did Jack get a stroke of conscience at the last minute? Was it the way he cowered so helplessly? His hands pressed against the rock, his cat eyes wide with fear, looking up at me, pleading with me.

And me, the spear high above my head. The spear that I had sharpened just for him. My eyes so focused. My ears so tuned to any of his sudden movements. So focused that I didn't hear Jack the first time. So focused that I almost threw the spear at him despite the turn of his head toward Jack. Despite his thankful eyes. Despite Jack's hand on my spear, gripping tightly to insure that I wouldn't kill him.

_**Everybody, they just want to have a good time**_

_**Everybody, they just want to forget**_

_**Everybody wants to feel**_

_**Like they did when the sky looked good**_

_**And the world was perfect**_

Why?

That was what Jack wanted. What he whispered in his sleep since we first landed here. What was in between the heavy quick breaths as he hunted down the pigs.

I continue walking; looking at scenery that I never knew was there. Light dances on every leaf as though it's putting on a show just for me. Butterflies flit about, a dance partner for the light.

A familiar aroma reaches my nose. Candle buds, my mind informs me. It was that scent mixed with the stench of pig's blood the night everything fell apart, the night we killed the beast. Good and evil collided that night. But who was who?

And then that smell, the horrible one, fills my nostrils. I back up in sudden disgust. The dead pig's head still stabbed on its stick; half of its face has rotted away to a skeleton. Flies buzz in and out of every orifice they can get their foraging bodies into.

Another smell is here, very faint but still here.

Simon always smelled of warm spices, of mother's home cooked food, even after we wound up on this God-forsaken island. He always reminded me of home, of society. Always reminded me that I wanted to go back home. Made me wish for home.

_Oh, Simon. _

I stumble forward, suddenly weak. The spear stabs into the ground, catching me before I fall. The spear sharpened just for him. I pull myself upright, as if there is someone here to be strong for.

_**I don't care**_

_**I just wanna die pretty**_

_**I just wanna get lost in the motion**_

_**I just wanna get lost in my beautiful self**_

_**I just wanna get lost in this city**_

_**I don't wanna live forever**_

_**I want to die a beautiful death**_

"Foolish boy." A voice whispers at my ear.

"What?" I rasp, looking up directly into the eaten eyes of the pig.

The voice is low and mocking. "You've killed what's left of home."

"But…" I search for words. "What about Ralph?"

"Don't give the boy so much credit," The Lord of the Flies says, softly. "He means nothing."

"So Simon…" I try to make sense of it all.

"Yes." The pig's head seems to nod slightly. "Simon was your last chance. He knew what I've been trying to tell you."

Suddenly, I feel as though I might throw up. "We- we can't…" I murmured. "K-kill the beast." I double over, in an unexplainable pain that eats at me from the inside out.

"There is one way." The voice says, sadistically. Now kneeling at the base of the stick, I look up then follow its line of vision to the spear in my hand. The spear sharpened just for him. "The beast is inside of you. So much closer than you imagined possible."

_**I got to get the hell out of this town**_

_**Everybody's looking upside down**_

_**Everybody here is looking for the same pain**_

It really seems like nothing ever changes 

I choke on my tears as they glisten down my cheeks, burning inside each cut on my face. Slowly, as if an outside force is controlling my body, I pull myself to a standing position once more. I can only think of how right it is. "And when I killed Piggy, was that the beast? Did the beast make me do that?" My head still bowed, I gaze up at the Lord of the Flies through my tangles of hair. "What about the time with Robert? His squeals of joy, then sudden screams of pain. Was the beast with us even then? Even when we were joking?" I pluck the spear out of the ground. The spear sharpened just for him. "When did it happen?" I ask the pig's head. "When did the beast become us?"

"When you started believing in it," the Lord of the Flies answers simply.

I snicker under my breath, glaring now through the curtain of my mane. "You make it all sound so simple, so easy to deal with." Violence overcomes me. "It's not, you know?" I yell. "It never was."

_**Everybody, they just to find a slow ride**_

_**Everybody, they just want to get by**_

_**Everybody wants to feel**_

_**Like they did when the sky looked high**_

_**And the world was simple**_

"You did this to yourself," the voice replies, calm as ever.

"No!" I shout, hearing my voice echo inside my head, the buzz of the flies becoming louder and louder. "You did this! You brought us here! To this point of desolation! You thought you could toy with us! You bastard!"

Then I stab, with the spear. The spear sharpened just for…

_**I just want to die pretty**_

_**Sometimes I just want to die**_

_**I just want to get lost in the moment**_

_**I just want to get lost in myself**_

Choking, I cough, and find blood splattered on my bare feet. I fall to my knees, gasping for any decayed air that's left. "Oh, God, I'm sorry." I whisper hoarsely. "I'm sorry." I shiver in the cold behind my darkening eyes.

The spear sharpened just for me.


End file.
